Chapter 91 91
Venessa’s POV
The treatment lasted just over two weeks, and by the end of it, King Jamar was already regaining his strength.
It felt like a miracle unfolding right before my eyes.
Learning that I had been right that he had been poisoned did not sit easily with him at first, but he was grateful he had listened to me. The silver that had been slowly killing him finally cleared from his system a week into the treatment, and with it came his vitality.
He was elated. Anyone would be.
To go from believing death was imminent to realizing you still had a long life ahead was enough to make anyone light-headed with joy.
He grew fond of me during that time and even promised me a title within his court. I wished, briefly and painfully, that I could stay long enough to enjoy such an honor. But this life was not meant to last. I was only passing through it, with just a few months remaining.
I hated dwelling on that truth. I tried to simply live really live but life had become so beautiful that there were nights I cried alone, overwhelmed by it. I was terrified of leaving behind the people I loved, especially Denzel. I wondered how he would cope without me.
It was a bitter truth to accept, but it was mine.
That night, we decided to watch a late-night movie with the King. Tonya and I prepared small, bite-sized snacks, and given everything that had happened, I made sure to personally prepare all of the King’s meals myself. No one outside this room knew he was with us, but caution felt necessary.
Once everything was ready, Tonya excused herself, leaving just Denzel, the King, and me.
“I still can’t believe they wanted me dead,” King Jamar said quietly, a small smile forming as he looked at me. He was seated on the couch, the movie paused before it even began.
“Thank you, Venessa. Truly. I wouldn’t have survived without you.”
I smiled in response.
“How did you learn the way of herbs?” he asked.
“I had a wonderful teacher,” I replied, my fingers instinctively moving to the necklace at my throat.
He noticed. And rather than press, he simply smiled and shifted the conversation.
“I wonder who is behind all of this,” he murmured before stopping. His gaze lingered on my necklace.
“May I see that?”
“This?” I asked.
He nodded.
“Of course.” I slipped it off and handed it to him.
He examined it carefully, running his fingers over the bronze before closing his hand around it. When he looked back at me, his expression had hardened.
“Where did you get this?” he asked sharply.
My heart skipped.
Had my mother taken it from them when she worked here?
The way he held it tight, reverent told me it carried deep meaning. There was anger in his eyes now. Denzel stiffened beside me.
“The truth, Luna Venessa,” the King said firmly.
“It belonged to my mother,” I answered.
His hand flew to his mouth.
“Danisha Gordon?” he asked.
I nodded.
Fear wrapped itself around my chest. I prayed that saving his life would be enough to spare mine.
“And she was the one who taught you medicine,” he said.
I nodded again.
He bowed his head, shoulders trembling, as though shame weighed heavily upon him. When he looked up, his eyes were wet.
“Where is she?” he asked.
I shook my head as tears streamed down my face.
“Venessa and her mother were attacked by Lycans where they lived deep in the woods, far from the rest of the world,” Denzel explained. “They killed Danisha. Venessa escaped and came to my pack seeking refuge.”
Tears rolled freely down the King’s face.
“In the woods?” he whispered.
I nodded.
“She was exiled from her pack,” Denzel added.
King Jamar clenched his fist.
“I always knew Carlton was an asshole,” he said hoarsely, wiping his face, “but how could he be that cruel to her?”
“They said she committed a crime when she came to work for you, Your Majesty,” I said softly. “That she was to be executed for it.”
He shook his head slowly.
“So that’s why she never returned?” he asked.
I frowned at him.
“How could she? We were always hiding always running from Lycans.”
His voice dropped.
“Are you her biological daughter?”
“Yes.”
“How old are you?”
“Twenty.”
He bowed his head once more.
“I am so sorry, Danisha,” he wept and I still didn’t understand what was happening.
Then he lifted his gaze to me.
“Danisha didn’t come to work for me,” he said quietly. “She was sent to my father. He was ill, and we needed a healer to manage his condition. At the time, I was married to Rochelle.”
His eyes returned to the bronze necklace in his hand.
“Danisha was my fated mate.”
I gasped.